


untouchable

by yolklessegg



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dreams, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mafia EXO, Oh Sehun is a Brat, Prophetic Dreams, Violence, Visions, Wet Dream, Yikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:16:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolklessegg/pseuds/yolklessegg
Summary: it was just a wet dream till the guns and the bad men came through and left red stains on my white bed sheets.-in which baekhyun has premonitions and chanyeol happens to be the center of his latest ones.





	1. un

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever fanfic! kinda scary
> 
> also side note i fucking DESPISE my writing in the book so i might either rewrite everything or just cry ig
> 
> -soy

-

_untouchable. he was untouchable. every time i tried to reach out, touch him, he seemed to disappear, fade out._

_and i want him, i want to touch him. i want to feel his hair, his sweat-licked skin, his lips. it wasn't enough; it wasn't, it wasn't. i craved for more, i wanted it to seem more real that it was, i want to entangle my fingers his hair._

_want._

_want._

_want._

_all i do is want, but he puts me in this position. he makes me utterly helpless. he touches me like i've never felt before, his calloused fingers embroidering my hips, dancing as if they were a degas painting. ever so elegant, ever so soft; i simply_ withered _under his touch. the feeling of his lips pressed against my skin put me over the edge, leaving me shaking, quivering, begging for more._

_and so i dig my nails into his back, slowly, softly, dragging out his name from between my lips. i mustn't touch him, i shan't, but i do, running my fingers up his shoulder blades. his tongue meets my neck, drawing lines up to my jaw, my ear,_

_"wake up, Baekhyun."_

_over the edge._

_black,_

_then white._

-

It'd been yet another morning in which Baekhyun woke up, hair plastered onto his forehead, thighs sticky, and sheets messed up. Yet another morning he had woken up to this dream, this surreal dream, surrounding a man he's never met before.

With a loud groan, Baekhyun pushed himself off the bed and stood, pulling his arms over his head. His mind was a mess, filled with morning haze and reluctance. For the fourth time this month, his mind had conducted a symphony of hormonal disaster, same bed, different words, same person, same consequences. What surprised him most wasn't the fact that he's had this dream multiple nights in a row, but the fact that the face in his dream was a face he's never seen before.

It was often—every month or so—he'd get a dream which, not so coincidentally, became reality. It'd started as a small correlation between imagination and life, where he'd dreamt of spilling water over his older brother's chemistry notes. Déjà vu, he had called it, though it'd been much more.

He's never dealt with anything serious; the dreams, they come and go, leaving nothing more than a minor hand-print on the male's memory. After nearly eleven years of coincidences, he'd come to terms with the fact he is, in a way, gifted. However, it did bring certain panic over him when he'd have a dream which contained heavier consequences—his first kiss, the death of a pet, a failing grade. However, not all of these dreams came true. This brought relief the first time he'd dreamt of getting evicted, fired from work. He'd driven to work, timid, fingers rolled tightly into a fist. Working at convenience store for minimum wage isn't anyone's dream job. A step towards a better job? Sure. And that's what Baekhyun held onto.

However, today was an off day, the first one in two weeks. His coworker, Youngho, had to take a two-week-long leave to visit his mother in the states, putting the red-haired man in a vulnerable position. Though he complained, ranted to his friends, passed out from exhaustion, he was grateful for the end-of-the-month paycheck.

Baekhyun turned to the bed once more, face contorting with a wave of reluctance. His covers were thrown to the side carelessly, his pillow case-dusted red from his unfortunate hair colour.

Without much thought, he stripped the mattress bare, throwing the sheets towards his door. Though his mind was telling him to fall back onto the bed, sleep until noon, do nothing all day, he forced his way through the coaxing. His actions' pace picked up, from slow to quick. Baekhyun made his way to the door, picking up the linens with both hands, using his foot to twist the nob, stumbling back from loss of balance.

After chucking them into the laundry room, Baekhyun lazily made his way to the kitchen, wearing nothing more than boxers and a shirt. He lived alone, what's the point of dressing? So early in the morning too...

-

People. There were so many people here, but Baekhyun barely noticed a difference. Having moved to the city a few years ago, he'd situated himself in the heart. Slowly, the cars, the people, the sounds-all became white noise. Baekhyun then found himself laying awake due to any absence, perhaps visiting his parents, staying with his older brother who'd decided to stay in college for far more than four years.

He'd grown accustomed to the city life, to where faces became blurs, blurs became art, art became common.

Baekhyun no longer minded brushing his shoulder against a strangers, he no longer minded bumping into someone. Words seemed to slip past his lips without them even moving. It was all subconscious now.

Instead of staying home like he'd wanted to, Baekhyun let his friend convince him to go on an outing with him. So there he was, standing in the middle of a tight crowd, waiting to cross the street, the light flashing red, before quickly turning a pale green. As if in a trance, the short male moves forth with the rest. A flock of birds—as Sehun called them.

And the walking resumed.

It was a tedious, long process, for the cafe was a long walk away from Baekhyun's apartments, yet he was too cheap to waste money on public transport. 1,300 won, but he was far too stingy and only rode the bus when it was absolutely necessary.

These _absolutely necessary_ times included a road block, flashing lights, cement trucks-road repair.

Baekhyun stared in disbelief, stopping in his tracks behind a few other people who shared the same objections as him. The male had to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from audibly releasing a groan. This _had_ to be the road Baekhyun must pass to go to the curséd cafe Sehun wanted to meet at.

 _We couldn't have met at the place directly across from my complex,_ Baekhyun grimaced at the sudden thought, pondering back to the decency of the drinks and hospitality there. He'd sworn Sehun only wanted to go to the farthest one because of the cute waitress that worked there, but he didn't press on too much, knowing the younger would only flip the conversation to Baekhyun, prying further into the sticky situation he found himself in.

For the first time in months, Baekhyun found himself waiting for the bus, holding a crinkled bill in his fist. He'd been so organized lately, planning out the amount of money he wants to spend in a week. Though it was less than half of the cost of a cup of coffee, he couldn't help but feel the anxiety build up in his chest, remembering the scarce amount of produce in his home. 1,300 can buy a small pack of mushrooms, carrots, cucumbers, all of which he doesn't have. In all honesty, he'd much rather text Sehun that something had come up, and he was unable to make it. However, he didn't, not because he was a good friend, but because the bus doors stood ajar, and people were waiting for Baekhyun to go on.

Grumbling something incoherent under his breath, the small male placed the bill in the drivers tin, walking onto the bus that smelt of pure gasoline, smoke, and city. He situated himself in a seat, pressing his side against the cold windowed side.

More and more passengers filled in seats, and Baekhyun greedily set his bag down beside him to ensure his lone ride. The bus started moving, and he silently thought of the explanation he'd have to give Sehun for being late.

Before he knew it, the bus had halted and new passengers tumbled in, Baekhyun not sparing them a second glance. That is, until he noticed a figure blocking out the sun lightly from his view. Only then did he look up, to meet the cold, familiar, brown eyes of a tall male.

His heart froze; his breath hitched.

Before averting his eyes, Baekhyun glances up to the hand that held the metal pole tightly, tendons making themselves present, defining the toned skin with detail. A bubbling sensation surfaced in his stomach, feeling as if he'd lived his day before, a common occurrence. Except this time, this is the same male that, possibly, may one day be sitting in-between Baekhyuns legs, tracing too-light semi-circles on his thighs. It couldn't be.

"Could I sit here?"

_It was._

Like thunder, the taller's deep voice rumbled and broke the silence. Baekhyun felt lighting all over his skin, a wave of unwanted heat coated him from head to toe.

As though it was a curse, Baekhyun's voice cracked under the stare of the familiar stranger, "Sure, of course."

He moved to pick up his bag—that he'd slyly placed down in attempt to _avoid_ something like this, but it seems it would have been much better if he'd let the first passengers sit next to him instead of trying to be clever-and placed in in his lap, finally averting his gaze.

Baekhyun's mind wouldn't stop racing, from the way his fingers felt on his body, to the way his practically-sex-itself voice sent shivers down his spine, deeper than anyone else's he's heard.

Then it occurred to him that the man sitting next to him, the fuel of his pleasurable dreams, didn't even know about the effect he had on Baekhyun. He didn't know what he will do—might do. The brown haired male know's nothing about Baekhyun, while the latter can practically recite everything about that night.

For the second time, the bus came to a stop, and Baekhyun decided this was where he was going to get off, whether it be his stop or not.

"Excuse me." Baekhyun cleared his throat, standing to his full height, finding himself slightly self-conscious when he found that the man was only about a head shorter than him while he was sitting down.

Instead of standing like Baekhyun had expected, the former simply slid up the seat slightly, making the gap in-between his knees and the back of the seat wider by a few centimeters.

Suddenly too shy to ask again, Baekhyun tries to ease his way through the gap, only to feel the knees of the taller, brushing—more so pressing-up against his thighs. Red in the face, he managed to escape the musty bus with only one over-the-shoulder glance towards the curly haired male, only to directly meet his eyes, feeling them dig holes in his own. Baekhyun swallows and almost trips down the last step.

He looks up, almost collapsing in pure ecstasy and satisfaction, for he'd ended up only a few buildings down from the cafe he'd been walking to earlier.

Recounting all that had happened in the last ten minutes, Baekhyun walked towards the beige building with glass windows, rimmed with brown and gold accents. That's when he realized—

_This was only the beginning of his story._

-


	2. unlearn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes my writing is ugly

-

Both Baekhyun and Sehun were Korean; there was no helping it. However, their ephemeral time in high school did not fail to supply them with the brisk, basic knowledge of spoken Chinese. Now, Sehun was the one who suggested the idea of speaking in Chinese when it came to gossip and secrets, oblivious to the idea of foreigners fluent in the—rather common—tongue.

The older thought the idea was, to kindly put it, idiotic. He'd thought of all the possibilities, voiced them, but once Sehun started speaking, he was too panicked to _not_ play along.

"Notice anything different?" Sehun uttered, the bitterness—more so disappointment—forcing his vowels to deflate, Mandarin beginning to sound more like sad Korean.

"Your muse isn't here?" Baekhyun followed reluctantly, his college studies providing him with a larger vocabulary that the younger, better pronunciation.

"Exactly, yes, she isn't here. The entire trip here is _without point_ ," _pointless._

"Sehun, I thought you were here to talk to me," the red-haired male groans, leaning back in his chair.

The younger rolls his eyes, ignoring Baekhyun's comment, "Yes—But I'm twenty-one this year, and I still don't have a girlfriend. D'you think if he wears makeup he'd look like a girl?" Implying he's desperate enough to date a guy, more so a guy he's never seen before, Sehun manages to persuade his elder into looking at the barista.

Baekhyun glances over as instructed, heart rate picking up once again when he caught the barista's dark eyes meeting his, direct contact. He swallows, looking back to his table in a split second. Resorting to covering his embarrassment with his cup of coffee, he lifts the ceramic to his lips, letting the hot liquid scorch his throat; he didn't flinch. 

"What?" Sehun asks and, to Baekhyun's disbelief, turns his head in the direction of the boy behind the counter. Baekhyun then follows his eyes, only to cringe as he sees the barista's eyes on Sehun's. _So reckless._

"He's rather cute, isn't he? I mean, if he wore makeup, I would probably go for him, not Sooyoung," the dark-haired male sighs and looks back to his elder, who only stares at him as if he'd hit a deer. 

"Shut up!" Baekhyun almost shouts, desperate to shut him up, always feeling guilty about talking about someone behind their back, especially if your Chinese is shit and half the words you use are Korean. To this, Sehun only rolls his eyes once more and busies himself with his iced tea. 

"Why are you so far up your own ass anyways? Having those dreams again?" Sehun queries, half Chinese, half Korean, tapping the polished table with his dull nails, creating a metronome for Baekhyun's thoughts.

The older simply nods, recalling the eyes of the the man, or so he thought, that he'd seen on the bus.  Cold—they were cold, dark. If it wasn't for the dim lighting in his room, caused by the moon slipping through the blinds in long strands, Baekhyun would've said they were completely black. However, the serene, blissful rays of light hit eyes at an angle, burning his irises brown, proved him otherwise. No matter what colour they were, staring at his coffee mug only reminded him more of the male, causing him to turn away and to hug himself closer.

Details—they aren't something you remember in a dream, they aren't something you notice in a dream. With Baekhyun, however, details were all that stood out. He could follow the main story line, but over the years, he learned to pick up details, but soon, he learned, that this skill can't be unlearned, and he was stuck with the fate of details, stuck with the constant reminder of accidental and meaningless paranoia that struck him at the faintest, most random times, causing him to mentally convulse, shake, panic.

"Tough. I mean, how many nights in a row was it? Three? Four—"

"Stop. We aren't talking about this here. At least not _this,_ this way," Baekhyun shakes his head and knits his fingers together, turning to glance at the outside through the large cafe window.

People, as mentioned before, were bustling about, creating empty noise that can be heard through the thick glass; they didn't know they were going to be ignored and forgotten by almost everyone they meet, no, they didn't think about that. Instead, they just wander, lone, in pairs, always walking, walking, walking, feeding the machine.

Baekhyun's attention was grabbed by the soft ringing of the bell that hung atop the metal cafe door—yank me, pull me, push me, shove me, I'll let out a moan of melody, I'll signify your presence.

Met with the sight of a stranger, Baekhyun sunk back into his seat, letting out a slow, uncertain break. He was too paranoid for his own good, but when you have the _gift_ of foreseeing the future, it can't be helped. Every touch, every glance—matters. You don't get déjà vu, you get a timer, ticking down till the moment your dream occurs.

See, the common misconception with changing the future is—you can't. You don't know it, you don't see it, but the future has you wrapped around it's finger and will do _anything_ to keep you from curving it's path. Of course, the future isn't made of diamond, no, it's malleable with the use of force. Baekhyun, however, isn't the strongest, so bending an entire tense and time isn't as easy as it is to pretend you don't mind. 

"Well this is fucking boring," Sehun grumbled, only to be smacked on the head by a now awoken, slightly pissed off Baekhyun. 

"Oi, you made me walk from Insa-dong to Sajik-dong, just to meet you. You can literally eat my ass for calling me boring when I spent money on you, for you."

"There he is," Sehun mused, watching his friend return to his old, more bitch-y, self. "You really tried for me. To think, I brought you across town just to ask for love advice from the god of love himself, Byun Baekhyun. Ah, such a shame, such a waste." He places his hands over his chest and dramatically drops them to his sides, looking at the male in front of him with a dull, emotionless pout.

"Love god?" Baekhyun quirks an eyebrow. "I haven't been in a relationship since university."

"Of course, of course," Sehun beckons, nodding with clothes eyes, mocking understanding. 

The older rolls his eyes and brings his mug to his lips, "whatever."

The two sit in a rather comfortable silence, the youngest of the two occasionally glancing back at the barista who was now busied with drinks. The day—it was nice. There was wind, lightly swaying the trees and pushing around the trash that littered the ground in some places. There were people, exiting and entering the tall, glass-like buildings. Jongno-gu was a beautiful district, though it rained often, there were days, such as this one, where the sun climbed out from the grey clouds, making the ground to erupt in a golden blush.

Having checked the forecast earlier today, Baekhyun knew that it was going to rain that night, evident now from the way the clouds hurriedly tried to knit together in attempt to block out the sun. The clouds, consisting of nothing but droplets of water, were easy to break, hence the inconsistency and blotchiness of the grey-blue sky. However, they did try, which would later result in a blanket of thick, grey stratus clouds. 

The silence was broken once Sehun spoke, half-dazed, "Baek, _look,_ the guy at the counter is so fucking hot. Look at his _arms._ "

"Huh?" Baekhyun was broken out of his trance as his eyes once over the male at the counter who stood there, palms resting against the counter, causing trees to branch out from his forearm in veins. Baekyhyun's pulse jumped, yet he failed to persuade himself into believing the truth. Instead, he scanned over his shirt—a white button down, it's sleeves messily rolled up to his elbow, his pants—black, neatly cuffed, well-fitted, his shoes—regular, black work shoes, most likely from an office job. However, once he went to examine the man's face, his heart completely stopped, and his eyes were met with cold, cold brown, glazed over in the sun's gold.

"Baek—"

"Hide me."

"What?"

"Sehun, hide me," Baekhyun repeated, voice laced in panic. 

Moments like these helped Baekhyun realize that his dreams, they weren't coincidences. Not anymore. It helped him realize that there are no such things like coincidences, and everything happens for a reason. You can't escape reality.

"How? Baek, what's wrong?" Sehun furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his elder as if he'd gone completely mad.

"Sehun-ah, I'll explain better," Baekhyun took his lip with his teeth, looking to the bathrooms, when an idea sparks. "Come with me to the bathrooms."

Without waiting for his reply, Baekhyun stood and started towards the bathroom, ignoring the eyes of the stranger, which, out of all the people in the cafe, he could make out clearest.

Sehun starts off a new exclamatory sentence, only to cut himself off, knowing the older can't hear him anymore. With a confused grimace, he made his way to the bathrooms in which Baekhyun was standing in.

Before Sehun could start his sentence again, Baekhyun spoke—

"Sehun, my dream..."

"What about it?"

"It's happening."

-


	3. unchained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO BAD SOMEONE SAVE ME

-

_"It's happening..."_

"It's what?" Sehun takes a step back, eyebrows knitted together, before a small chuckle leaves his lips, and his head shakes slightly in disbelief. "Hyung, wasn't your dream about sex?"

Baekhyun cringed at the straightforwardness and innocence of his younger, but reluctantly nodded, "It was but—"

"But what?" Sehun interrupts. "Isn't that good?"

Before Sehun could follow up with another question, Baekhyun cuts in, trying his best to erase the impure thoughts of the younger, "No, kid, it's absolutely terrifying. I know nothing about him. He's just this—" a pause. "—really hot man with dangerous eyes, you know? I've told you before, he didn't let me touch him."

"Wait," as if everything clicks, Sehun's face deepens. "You mean the hot guy at the counter was—"

"God, don't say it like that," Baekhyun rubs his face with hands, leaning back against the tile wall, smooth, cold to the touch. Closing his eyes, he sees it—and he doesn't want it. It's burning his skin, his mind, his senses. It's a cloud, it's intoxicating, it makes him flushed, nervous; he's embarrassed that something like this, wasn't just a dream.

"Baek, it could just be a coincidence, after all, it's not that big of a world..." Sehun trails off, observing the distressed features of Baekhyun, who, visibly, is slowly losing his sanity.

"Bus."

"What?"

"Bus," Baekhyun drops his arms to his sides, lazily looking up at his friend. "I saw him on the bus. Yes, I took the bus." _The first time in months, I take the bus, and this happens._ "He sat next to me and kept looking at me, and it was stressful, and I hated every second of it, and it was weird because I knew so much about him, but he knows nothing about me—"

"Calm down. I know this is isn't going to calm you down, but, in the grand scheme of things, it won't matter. Sure, you'll have this dark, mysterious man give you the time of your life—"

"Seh—"

"Stop interrupting me!" Sehun raises his voice, growing more annoyed at the stubbornness and ignorance of his hyung. His words make Baekhyun flinch and quiet down, not bothering to make any remarks about informality. 

"Anyways," Sehun continues. "He's just a guy—"

He's interrupted by gun shots.

" _Fuck,_ " he hisses, grabbing Baekhyun by the hand and pulling him away from the door.

"Were those—?" Baekhyun whispers, but Sehun doesn't need to answer; they were greeted with a shrill scream, one of those who lay distressed upon the other side of the door. 

"How did you not get a dream about this? You're useless!" Sehun exclaims, hushed, yet filled to the brim with exclamation.

"Well, sorry, but have you ever seen a hot girl and _made_ yourself dream about her lying in your bed? I didn't think so," frustration was clear in Baekhyun's voice.

Before Sehun could add onto their out-of-time quarrel, another gunshot erupts, soon followed by another. The two shut up.

As if older, Sehun pushes Baekhyun deeper into the room, hiding behind an acute corner, pressing the smaller's body against the stall. In a normal situation, Baekhyun would retort, whine, scold, but now, all he could hear is his heart, and all he can do is _pray_ that the other's on the opposite side of the door can't hear it too.

He couldn't, he shouldn't, not now, but Baekhyun starts to think. His mind—it's all over the place, tracing each corner, scraping each thought off the walls of his skull, leaving scratches, scrapes, dents in the interior of his cranium. Bone against man—who would win? Neither. It'd be realization that trumps both, draining Baekhyun's face of colour. Before Sehun could shush him, he begins to speak in a hushed, frenzied manner.

"The man, the guy in my dream. He's here, in person. I've seen him, you've seen him, yet my dream hasn't happened yet. Sehun, can you connect the dots? Who else can be out there? Why is it so quiet? No one could've entered that fast. His skin, it didn't have injuries. _Fuck_ ," Baekhyun swears, trying to shut himself up before anyone hears him. "Sehun..." he whimpers weakly. "I don't want to be fucked by a murderer."

Sehun knits his eyebrows together, deep in thought, before smoothing out his features and sighing, "I'm not going to comment on that, but I have something that can help us—me—get out alive—"

"What do you mean ' _me_ '?" Baekhyun scoffs.

"Baekhyun," no honorifics. "You haven't been fucked yet, that's what you care about right? You're supposed to live. Christ's sake, you're the main character. You _live._ Main characters don't die. I'm a side character in your own little story, I don't have a place in this, unless you saw me in the corner of your room, watching you two go at it. I walk out—I get shot, unless we have a plan."

Baekhyun is hushed, wanting to argue that his life isn't a fairy-tale, but he says nothing, no remarks. He just listens.

"It's a cafe, I've worked in one before. They have a back door for shipments and disposal. If we can get there, we can avoid him and get out. But promise me, Baek, the moment we step out, you're silent, you're agile. The moment we're outside, you run. And—call me selfish—I fall, you help me the fuck up and pray you're fast enough, got it?"

He nods.

"Great. You ready?" Sehun smiles and holds a hand out. _Psychosis._

Baekhyun nods again, taking the hand with his smaller, clammy hand, and slowly, he's pulled to the door. Sehun lets go, and, gently, slowly, with applied pressure, he turns the lock, a concentrated expression never slipping off. He pulls the door open, only a crack to peer out of.

Heart racing, Baekhyun watches as Sehun turns, raising his pinkie, ring finger, then his middle, then, quietly, pulls the door open and slips out. Baekhyun stares with terrified eyes as he spots the broad back of the man, before sliding out of the crack Sehun left behind. Without much hesitation, Baekhyun turns the corner Sehun had turned. With much relief, he meets the eyes of Sehun, who gives him a nod, and they progress forward.

As if choreographed, the two males stop at the same time, heart stilling at the sound of expensive shoes echoing through the halls, bouncing off the tiles, jumping off the hollow, empty, blood-stained walls. Then—silence. They breathe, but Baekhyun's lungs are on fire, and taking in sharp breaths of air was all he can do; he was panting.

Things were going smoothly, until another bullet of realization pierces his brain: Baekhyun remembers the eyes, the deep, deep brown, yet they weren't illuminated by moonlight, but by the sun—streaming through thick, grey clouds, illuminated by the cafe's sunlight. He knew. _He knows._ And what Baekhyun knew, was that they were going to die, for the suited man, expensive shoes, expensive gun, knew that both Baekhyun and Sehun were still in the cafe. There was nothing Baekhyun could do about it, but walk faster.

By now, Baekhyun had silent tears running down his cheeks, muddying his vision, but he couldn't tell Sehun. No, it'd make too much noise. So with that, he pushed on, quietly following the younger. Though Sehun had scolded him earlier about being the main character, he couldn't shake off the thought of being shot or watching his best friend die. He didn't want to risk it, or else he'd lose it all—his friend, his family, his mind.

Stumbling across the door that led to the back room, they both pause, Baekhyun letting Sehun open it quietly, a slow procedure when it came to stealth. Using this time, Baekhyun looks around. Getting caught in time, it brought a slight sense of serenity. The painting that hung on the walls were untouched, the floors were clean, the doors that placed themselves down the hallways in rows were closed. It brought order, though Baekhyun's mind was a mess. 

Eyes taking in the sight, Baekhyun figures he has enough time to walk back a step and peer through the window of the shut door he stood next to. He'd expected an empty room, possibly storage, but instead he's met with the sight of an occupied room, the only two occupants making Baekhyun's eyes widen, heart freeze, stance lock. 

Curiosity killed the cat, right? Curiosity itself can't kill, yet Baekhyun felt the noun stabbing at his heart. Curiosity can't kill, yet it can help. Curiosity can bring around any emotion, it can intensify emotion. As if it wasn't enough, Baekhyun felt waves upon waves of panic and shock crashing against the rock of his brain, his stomach, his entire body. Though he was frozen, his eyes move as the two men did, they follow every hand motion. It was a mere few seconds, but it felt like hours. 

Baekhyun's mind began to overfill, spill from the top with questions. All he did was stare at the sight in front of him, but all he could think of is _what was the barista doing with a dangerous man? Why was he casually sitting on the counter? Why was he loosely holding a gun in his hand? How was he so calm while the taller of the two leaned down and whispered something in his ear? Why did he smile? Why didn't he stop him when he tilted his head and pressed his lips against his neck? Why was this happening? Why did it hurt?_

Eyes. 

"Baekhyun, let's go!" Sehun hisses, but Baekhyun couldn't bring his eyes away. Sirens where whipping around in his head, but his CPU wasn't working, it wasn't processing anything. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the stranger's piercing gaze, slightly hooded. 

Before Sehun could reach out and grab him, Baekhyun snaps out of his trance, breaking the contact as he whips his head around and starts ushering the younger into the room Sehun has opened. "Go. Hurry, _fuck._ "

"Baekhyun, what was in there?" Sehun asks, the both seeming to have forgotten the no-talking rule.

Baekhyun, however, didn't reply, but Sehun didn't press on. Though everything happened so quick, Baekhyun's mind was a mess. Everything that had happened, he'd processed as if on video, replaying each scene in his mind, almost to see what he's missing, what he's not seeing. He felt scared, and on top of that, uncomfortable. Those eyes, they were so real. You prepare yourself for the worst, but nothing is as bad as the real thing. He wanted to throw up.

Baekhyun followed Sehun into the room, anxiously fidgetting with his hands, and instantly saw the younger already pushing the heavy door open. It was relieving, watching as freedom is only inches away, but he couldn't shake of the feeling of uneasiness, making him use his own force to try to pry the door from its rusty hinges.

There was a squeak, then a groan, then alleviation. Both boys nearly collapse, but regain their stature and run. The chilled Seoul air filled their lungs, but neither of them were fully breathing. They were running, their legs fully numbed and controlled by their mind. Their minds are paralyzed by fear and, like most venom, the poison traveled through their system, eventually stopping their legs.

And suddenly— people. There were so many people here, but Baekhyun barely noticed. Having moved to the city a few years ago, he'd situated himself in the heart. Slowly, the cars, the people, the sounds-all became white noise. This time, the white noise is replaced with the beating of his own heart, in his ears, _pounding._  Wordlessly, Baekhyun looks up and meets the eyes of Sehun, watching as Sehun's own chest heaved up and down. 

The city, the sounds, it was all soothing.

Sehun flashed a toothy grin, then it all became funny.

-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. unsatisfied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tense change past-->present**
> 
> gross im probably change back to past but lmk which you guys prefer!!

-

Baekhyun is unsatisfied.

Lying upside down on his couch, Baekhyun begins to ponder and analyze. For the past few days, all that has been on his mind was the cafe incident. He was happy that Sehun was alive, and that Baekhyun himself wasn't hurt, but there was a part of his mind that was tugging at his heart, leaving Baekhyun unsatisfied and slightly disappointed.

The idea of being left unsatisfied was very familiar and almost scary. Baekhyun doesn't want to feel this way, but he can't feel the same heart-fluttering, ecstasy feeling he felt when they had run out of the cafe. He wants it back. Thinking isn't enough.

After reevaluating his thinking process, Baekhyun nearly yells out in disgust, clapping a hand over the top of his head. Curling his body up into his abdomen, Baekhyun sits up again. Letting blood rush back out from his head, he re-positions himself to sit on the couch. 

 _The eyes_.

The stranger's eyes, burning into his skull—that got his heart beating. A flush, a burning feeling running across the fields of Baekhyun's cheeks, soles of the player's feet leaving baby pink scars along the smooth, tanned skin. Fingers, like lace, weave into the rough fabric of his jeans, looping around the button. With the push of his thumb, the button unwound itself from the slit it resided in. His minor actions were redolent of what he were to do next. Nimble, delicate fingers spoke in actions of impurity, delving farther into the warmth that resided deeper within. 

"Baekhyun!"

"Ah!" Baekhyun exclaims, nearly tumbling to the ground as he claws at the faux leather fabric of the couch he lay on.

"I brought snacks." Sehun tumbles in, figure appearing as he walks towards the living room area of Baekhyun's apartment. Baekhyun hurriedly buttons his jeans and sat up, fixing the messy, flame-red hair that sat ruffled and mussed up. 

"You can't just walk in like that! You could have been a killer, for all I know!" Baekhyun shoots daggers at the younger, who took long, lax strides towards the older.

"Yeah, well, you can't die, so I can probably shove a fork twelve inches into your ass, and you'd be fine," Sehun gives a curt smile, before falling down onto the spot beside Baekhyun.

"Say that again, and I've got a full drawer of knives and utensils to try out on you first," Baekhyun grumbles. "Besides, it's still an invasion of privacy! Call beforehand or knock."

"Invasion of privacy? What have you done that I haven't seen?" Sehun quirks an eyebrow, adjusting himself on the cushions so he sat comfortably in front of a pouting Baekhyun. "Watching porn? Please, in high school, you wouldn't even watch a damn movie with us because there was a sex scene."

"That was high school!"

"You were a year eleven! We were year nines!" Sehun shoots back, hitting his elder on his thigh, before averting his attention to the bag he had brought. "Speaking of movies, we're watching one. I'm bored, tired, and too scared to be alone." 

Somehow, though being younger, Sehun always got the last word. It was only recently that Sehun has begun to get fed up with his elder's antics. Nevertheless, through their two year age gap, Sehun has never been too mindful of honorifics and respect. Baekhyun had grown used to it, though opposed. 

"Whatever," Baekhyun mumbles, melting into his best friend as Sehun shifts closer, the two boys huddle together as one operates the television set to broadcast a popular drama, randomly selected. 

There was a silence, a pause on their part, where no one spoke. The air was comfortably thin, scented in rough drama satoori.

"Are you alright?" Sehun breaks the silence, voice much softer than it had been minutes before.

To say the expression of words surprised Baekhyun would be an understatement, but he held in a rude remark or comment.

Baekhyun blinks, eyes set on the TV screen as he mouths words that almost seem like honey. "Yeah. Kind of. Not really. Are you?"

Sehun shakes his head, pressing his soft brown hair against the crook of Baekhyun's neck.

"I'm terrified," he speaks. "I can't walk through my room at night without turning on the lights. I didn't die. I didn't get hurt." Sehun sighs. "I'm twenty–one, for fucks sake. Maybe I am just a child. It's scary, man. I'm not that brave. If I hadn't been so worked up on my PhD essay, I would be dead. Fuck."

Baekhyun listens intently, running his fingers through Sehun's hair, his wrist arched and fingers bent. Their relationship was odd, to say the least. Switching lanes from loud and sarcastic to caring and understanding in seconds is difficult—sometimes you forget to turn your turn signal off. But Baekhyun listens, he hushes, protects.

Through sadness and heavy hearts, Baekhyun swallows down the ever-rising feeling of guilt back into his stomach. Listening to his friend talk about this only added onto the spike and intensity of guilt.

While Sehun sat with a pit of worry, Baekhyun sat with a pit of pleasure. He is guilty, so guilty, but he is one other thing, no matter what obstacles came.

Baekhyun is unsatisfied.

-

 

**Author's Note:**

> -


End file.
